


Pumping Iron

by demalore



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Gen, ties into the prince peepers au if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7577380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demalore/pseuds/demalore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://lesbianmonarch.tumblr.com/">@lesbianmonarch</a> you already know exactly what this is.  Everyone else enjoy some self-indulgent Peepers fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pumping Iron

The first time Hater caught Peepers working out, he thought it was funny.  It wasn’t even so much ‘working out’ as it was ‘being pinned to the floor by one of Hater’s dumbbells’.  One of his smaller ones, in fact.  Comically small.

Hater had graciously lifted the weight off of Peepers, held back laughter as his commander brushed himself off and slunk away without a word, and thought nothing of it after that.  He couldn’t blame Peepers for being embarrassed, but the guy was _tiny._  Hater almost felt bad for him--there was no way Peepers could be strong.  He was little, and that’s all there was to it.

Peepers himself had given up the pursuit of physical prowess shortly after this miserably failure.  He instead plunged himself into his work, exercising the one strong muscle he had--his brain.  Hater hadn’t brought up the incident again, but Peepers still thought he caught a shadow of a smirk on his leader’s face every time Peepers addressed him.

This, on top of the pressure from his work, pushed an anxious Peepers deep into the night until he couldn’t stand it anymore.  No matter how many schemes and strategies he came up with, it wouldn’t compensate for his puny stature one bit.  Something had to be done, even at the risk of humiliating himself again.

The watchdogs having long since retired to their bunks, the Skullship’s training room was empty.  Letting his half-finished thoughts about planets to conquer and weapons to stockpile aside, Peepers went into the training room, grabbed the smallest weight he could find, and started lifting.

The fact of the matter was, Peepers just wasn’t made for this sort of thing.  He had lived a life of relative luxury, never having to lift anything more than his pinky.  Lifting even this tiny weight was a struggle, but the pain coursing through his arms only urged him forward.

Once he was sure his arms were about to fall off, Peepers moved on to the other equipment.  It didn’t take him long to wear himself out.  He abandoned the pull-up bar after completing only half a pull-up, bruised his hands on the punching bag, and surrendered to the training dummy in mere minutes.  Heavy drops of sweat stung his eye, but he refused to wipe them away.

Still sticky with moisture, Peepers crawled back into his bed, lacking the energy to step into a much-needed shower.  He wanted to scream, to let out his frustration with his feeble physique, but he was too tired to do even that.

Sleep stole him away before his thoughts could turn any darker, and the commander awoke with an acute soreness plaguing every one of his muscles.  It seemed to take hours to change out of his sweat-soaked uniform, and the thought of walking to Lord Hater’s room made him want to faint.

Peepers stole a glance of himself in the mirror on his way out.  There was no noticeable change in his body, of course, besides what he alone could feel.  But that was something, even if it was invisible.

He smiled at his reflection.   _It’s a start._

 

The watchdog bunks were silent, apart from a few gentle snores and the insistent tapping of one pair of boots.  Erit was having trouble sleeping again, and to no surprise, staring out his window at the deep, crushing expanse of the universe wasn’t helping matters.  With a sigh, Erit dropped down from his bunk and snuck out of the room, scanning each occupied unit to ensure that he hadn’t been noticed.

It wasn’t technically against the rules to roam the Skullship this late at night, but it seemed taboo.  The halls were eerily quiet, the low red lights more creepy than comforting.  Erit listened for the sound of footsteps, but didn’t hear anyone but himself.  He felt relieved, but not very surprised.  Who besides him would be up so--

A strange noise stopped Erit in his tracks.  It wasn’t footsteps, to be sure, but it wasn’t one of the ship’s idle noises either.  It was a series of even clinking sounds, reverberating down the empty hallway.  As Erit listened, he caught a gasping breath punctuating the steady clinks.

Unable to ignore his curiosity, Erit followed the source of the noise to the training room, its bright lights flooding into the dark corridor.  Erit peered into the room, and saw Commander Peepers lying on a bench, barbell shakily rising away from his bare chest.

Erit stared.  The commander, oblivious to the renegade watchdog’s presence, continued pumping the barbell up and down, his pace not faltering in the slightest.  It was a considerable amount of weight; Erit had only seen Moose lift more than that.  Sweat ran from Peepers’ bloodshot eye into the puddle growing underneath him, and his thin but well-defined arms glistened with the fruits of his efforts.

It wasn’t until many uninterrupted repetitions later, when Peepers seemed to be struggling to bring the barbell to its apex, that Erit had to intervene.  He wrapped his hands around the slippery barbell and helped Peepers hoist it onto its holding rack.  Peepers let out a throaty sigh, letting his shredded arms dangle at his sides before pulling himself up to face Erit.

“What...are you doing….out of bed….soldier?” Peepers panted, patting his eye with a towel and slinging it around his neck.

Erit gulped, unsure of whether to stare at his commander’s exposed torso or his accusing eye.  As tired as Peepers appeared to be, it was clear that he would still reprimand Erit just as thoroughly as he normally would.

“You really shouldn’t lift without a spotter, Sir,” Erit said.  It wasn’t just training room protocol, it was common sense.  The commander had to know that.

Peepers considered this, still breathing heavily.  The two met eyes, mutual surprise overriding their rules for social conduct.

“Well, since you’re already up,” Peepers sighed, throwing his towel down and walking to the leg press.  Erit followed without a word, obeying Peepers’ unspoken order.

There was no way Erit would be able to fall back asleep after this, anyway.

 

Peepers’ arrangement with Erit went unnoticed for months, neither one of them too keen on letting anyone else in on the secret.  While not particularly embarrassed to have his nightly exercise sessions discovered, Peepers didn’t want to draw attention to the activity.  It was his quiet time, and having Erit there was bad enough.  Thankfully, Erit never talked much, or said anything, really.  Erit was just very attentive, and Peepers was nothing but thankful for this.

Erit was careful not to spill the secret to the other watchdogs.  Truth be told, he looked forward to that uncharted time in the middle of the night where they both found their way to the training room.  He had begun doing a little extra exercise himself during this time, but focused most of his attention on the commander.  He, like Peepers, was glad that it was just the two of them in the training room, though perhaps for different reasons.

As time passed, however, rumors about Peepers began saturating the watchdogs’ gossip mill.  Most of the soldiers were only concerned about Lord Hater, but the few that paid attention to the commander’s various activities were intrigued by what they found, leaving them and anyone they trusted with the information hungry for more.

“Did you see what the commander was doing during the battle?”

“I was kinda busy trying not to get shot at, what with _every villain in the galaxy_ being there.”

“Well, he was totally fighting the Zbornak, hand-to-hand!  And he was _winning!!_

“What, no way!  No one’s been able to take _her_ on.  I don’t care _how_ smart the commander is, he’s no match for her.”

“I dunno, I heard that he can lift Lord Hater!”

“Dude, you’ve seen Lord Hater, right? The guy is _enormous_ .  Has to weigh at _least_ three hundred pounds.”

“Please,” Erit scoffed, the response out in the air before his brain could stop it, “the commander _curls_ more than that.”

It didn’t take long for the watchdogs to coax out the rest of Erit's coveted information after this unchecked tidbit.  They were skeptical of Erit’s fantastic story at first, but it lined up with quite a few other unexplained events: Erit’s late-night disappearances, the commander’s impossible feats of strength, and the pieces of equipment in the training room that mysteriously broke overnight.

A few watchdogs begged for more details, specifically about Erit’s involvement with this bizarre ritual.  “So he just asked you to help?  And you said yes?”

Erit shrugged.  “More or less.”

The eager watchdogs looked at each other until one of them ventured, “Does he...need anyone else to help?”

 

Peepers’ nightly exercise sessions became much more crowded after that.  At first he was happy to have a few more watchdogs around--extra spotters, water dispensers, towel boys, and the like.  He was thrilled to see the watchdogs taking such an active approach to their training, although he had to admit that he seemed to be the only one doing any exercise most of the time.

“What?” he had to ask one night, realizing that the dozen or so watchdogs in the training room were all watching him.  Many of them were red in the face, although Peepers was certain that they hadn’t just been exercising.

The watchdogs blinked.  “We’re studying your form, sir!” one of them piped up.

Peepers took a second to swallow this.  “Well, all right.”  He rolled back onto the bench and brought the barbell to his chest.  “The first thing you want to do is make sure--”

A large figure eclipsed the light from the hallway.  The watchdogs turned to salute the new arrival, and Peepers quickly replaced the barbell so he could do the same.

Lord Hater studied the watchdogs, his thoughtful gaze traversing the room until reaching Peepers, who stood attentively next to his bench, wearing nothing but a too-long pair of sweatpants.

“Peepers, what’s going on in here?” Hater asked, his steady voice threatening to rise into a shout.

“I-I was just doing a bit of exercise, Sir!” Peepers answered in a high, nervous voice.  “Just like I do every night!”

“Then why are there so many watchdogs here?” Hater pressed, narrowing his gaze at the still-saluting watchdogs.

“Oh, them?” Peepers asked, as if he had just realized the watchdogs’ presence.  “They, er, they’re just spotters, exercise enthusiasts, you know!  Really putting forth that extra effort!”

Even Hater could see that the watchdogs were putting forth no effort at all.  They were probably just looking for an excuse to sneak around after hours.  Soon _all_ the watchdogs would be roaming around wherever they wanted, and he wouldn't stand for that!

“You only need _one_ spotter, Peepers.  The rest of you, report back to your bunks!” Hater ordered.

Erit moved possessively toward Peepers’ bench, the other watchdogs taking their cue to leave.  Peepers fell back onto his bench, grabbing the barbell but waiting for Lord Hater to leave.

Lord Hater turned to leave, but, catching a glimpse of the barbell, whipped back around and gawked at Peepers.  Peepers met his gaze with a mix of confusion and shame, waiting patiently as Hater composed himself.

“Uh, here, let me swap in some lighter weights for you,” Lord Hater offered, reaching toward the heavily-weighted barbell.

Erit stepped back, and Peepers rose off of the bench.  “Sir, y-you really don’t have to-”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Hater assured with a gracious wave of his hand.  He slid one of the weights off of the barbell, and it nearly brought him to the floor.   _Grop, this is heavier than it looks!_

“Sir, do you need some-”

“No!” Hater shouted, electricity prickling into his cheeks.  By swinging his arms side to side, Hater managed to put the weight back on its stand.  “See?  I can do it!  I can lift _way_ more than _you!_ ”

Peepers paused, trying not to let his eye roll like he so wanted to.  “Yes, Sir, I’m sure-”

“Weight-lifting contest! Now!” Hater demanded, pressing a finger into Peepers’ chiseled chest.

“You!” Hater pointed at Erit, “bring me the heaviest weights you have!”

Erit gave Hater a salute and spun around toward the weights, but not before catching the slightest shake of Peepers’ head.  Erit chuckled; it was only confirmation of what he had already assumed.

“I’ll show _you_ how it’s done!” Hater gloated, curling one of the dumbbells Erit had brought him.  It was heavy, sure, but nothing he couldn’t handle.  Hater cranked out twenty reps, starting to sweat after the first three, before handing the weight off to Peepers.

Peepers cracked his knuckles, bent down to retrieve the weight, and lifted it up off the floor with both hands.  His arms shook, struggling to keep the weight a mere inch off the floor.  Peepers tottered from side to side before he was forced to relinquish the dumbbell, letting it fall to the floor with a defeated thump.

“Ha! Told you!” Hater gloated, giving Erit a high-five and striding out of the training room.

Both Peepers and Erit listened for Hater’s footsteps to disappear for good.  One hand pressing against his uncontrollable laughter, Erit struggled to meet Peepers’ eye.  “S-sir?” he choked, clutching his sides.  “Do you-- _snrk--_ do you want me to get you some lighter weights?”

Peepers smirked, lifting the fallen dumbbell and tossing it aside.  “You know I already warmed up, Erit,” he grinned.  “Better get me the _actual_ heaviest weights.”

Erit returned Peepers’ self-satisfied smile.  “Yes, Sir!”

 

Hater couldn’t help but overhear the two as he went back to his room.  Peepers had always been a terrible actor.  He grumbled angrily about Peepers being dumb as he made his way to bed, but fell asleep wondering if all watchdogs were that...if they all looked like Peepers did.

The first time Hater caught Peepers working out, he thought it was funny.  The second time, not so much.


End file.
